


Marked (Interludes)

by Fire_Sign



Series: Marked [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 15:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4629945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Events of Marked from other points of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ted Carter

**Author's Note:**

> While drafting Marked I had little ficlets about secondary characters keep popping up. I decided to post them as a separate fic. Not sure how many there will be or if they are terribly interesting, but it's fun and I'm using it as an excuse to not scrutinise every single word before I post. The next chapter of the main story will be posted soon; it decided to split itself into two and is wrecking all sorts of havoc as a result. I might just throw in the towel, post it as is and scramble to catch up another day. 
> 
> This particular one hits on my head canon that Phryne is quite delighted with swearing under the right circumstances.

Ted was not a stupid man, and he was a damn good detective. He wouldn't have made the rank of Detective Inspector with two police forces in a respectable amount of time- not the meteoric rise of Jack Robinson, who had the advantage of a well-placed father-in-law as well as an unnerving aptitude for the job- if he'd been anything other than reliable. Women confused him, he would admit; not as people- no, from the job's point of view they were prone to the same whims and evils as any man. Jealousy, greed, anger. But it was understanding the deeper mind of the modern woman that eluded him.

It was not an issue that kept him up at night. Watching Miss Fisher sweep into Scotland Yard at ten past eight in the morning, impeccably dressed and with the bearing of a queen, the lacking was keenly felt. Still, Jack had vouched for her skills.

"Inspector Carter!" she called, extending a hand to shake before she had actually reached him. "I'm afraid we got off to rather a rough start yesterday. I'm Phryne Fisher, and you're welcome to call me Phryne. Even if Jack only does so under duress."

She shot her companion a look that Ted couldn't quite decipher, a sort of amused ridicule that he merely smiled at.

"A pleasure, Miss Fisher. And Jack, it's good to see you. Now, if you'd like to follow me I'll show you both to the room we're using."

The three other men assigned to the case met them in the office, and they agreed to go over London's cases before filling in the background with Melbourne's. There were several raised eyebrows at the presence of Miss Fisher, which were steadfastly ignored. He hadn't known her well in Collingwood- mostly by reputation and the occasional glimpse of a dark bob on the stairs when he brought home a drunk Henry Fisher- but over the next few hours, Ted learnt that the adult Phryne Fisher was exactly like the child Phryne Fisher with a veneer of sophistication. She was still impulsive and charming and sharp, hardened and honed into a woman of considerable wit and wile. It seemed a strange counterpart to Jack, who had always been steadfast and immovable in the pursuit of justice. A rapier and a rock. Or, if he were feeling particularly mythological, a sword and a stone. 

After the fifth unsubtle jab about Miss Fisher's professional expertise from one of the officers, the woman leaned over and whispered something into Jack's ear. 

"What's that, duck?" asked Robert Baines. "I would hope for better language from a lady."

"I was suggesting to Inspector Robinson that we break for lunch before we begin with Melbourne's cases," she said, her voice icy. "I am not the sort who mutters curses beneath my breath, it that is what you were implying."

"Oh no," said Jack dryly. "You are the sort who enunciates them quite clearly."

"Like the fucking lady I am," said Miss Fisher with a grin, leaning back into her seat.

The men didn't laugh, but they relaxed a little. Lunch was called shortly after, and Miss Fisher left without a word to anyone.

She came back an hour later with an entire buffet and a look of steely determination.

No, the modern woman was a bedfuddling creature. But as he watched Miss Fisher hand his friend a plate with a clear admonishment to eat, he was assured that it was progress he could live with.


	2. Margaret Fisher

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This sprang about to (1) explain the breakfast conversation mentioned in Chapter 5 of Marked, and (2) to shine a little light on Margaret's character without seeing it from Phryne's critical point of view. 
> 
> It appears that "QUERY" was used in some telegrams in place of a question mark, much like "STOP" indicated a period. It's use was not as widespread, but it made the formatting of the telegrams easier so I kept it.

"Mother, we have a guest," Phryne had announced one evening as Margaret Fisher came through the door of the townhouse. "A colleague and dear friend from Melbourne has just arrived in London on business, and you can imagine the sort of hotel available to a policeman's salary! It absolutely wouldn't do, so I've offered him one of the guest rooms. If you've any concerns you can message Aunt P, she'll vouch for him. His name's Jack Robinson. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some reading to do."

Without waiting for a reply, her daughter was gone. It was the sort of thing you grew used to when living with Phryne. Margaret Fisher was no stranger to her daughter's particular brand of chaos, and the glint in her eyes told her exactly what sort of friend this Jack Robinson was; the only real surprise was that the friendship had lasted long enough to reach England's shores. Still, she made sure to send her sister a telegram the next morning.

> JACK ROBINSON QUERY  
>  M

Prudence's response was surprisingly quick.

> IN LONDON QUERY  
>  GOOD MAN STOP  
>  FULL MISSIVE TO COME  
>  P

While she waited for her sister's letter to arrive, the Baroness learnt some things of her own. Rereading the letters Phryne had sent her since arriving in Australia, Inspector Robinson made appearances in passing and she suspected that several other passages alluded to him. A memory tugged at her, and she returned to a letter Phryne had sent nearly a year before. She had read it only once before tucking it away in a box of momentoes of her younger daughter.

_Due to the diligence of Detective Inspector Jack Robinson of City South Police Station, Janey has been recovered and Murdoch Foyle returned to gaol to hang._

"Thank you for helping my daughter," she told Jack Robinson the next morning, before Phryne had come down for breakfast.

"Miss Fisher? I don't think she needs any help," was his wry reply.

"Janey," Margaret clarified.

"That was Phryne, really."

The use of her Christian name did not go unnoticed, though it went unremarked.

"That's not what she told me. Your help was indispensible."

He seemed speechless.

"I know Phryne loved her very much," he finally managed.

"We all did. So thank you."

Phryne joined them then, and the discussion ended. Margaret watched the pair carefully over the next few weeks; catching the quiet smiles they shared, the way they were drawn together no matter how crowded the room was or how often other people pulled them away, the way they verbally sparred with affection and familiarity and no anger.

Mrs. Stanley's letter arrived on a Friday morning and confirmed much of Margaret's suspicions- Jack Robinson was an upstanding servant of the law who had become part of Phryne's Melbourne family. Not then a fling, perhaps. He was stalwart and fair and a match for Phryne's more... adventurous nature. Prudence wrote with great affection of the times he had helped her, and his immeasurable kindness after Arthur's passing. Even the warning Prudencce had included was no real surprise-

_The only conflict I foresee is that there is no hope of Phryne settling down with a suitable Englishman- or indeed anyone!- if her inspector is there. A fact she will deny adamantly, I'm certain._

Henry arrived that afternoon, in town long enough to celebrate his wife's birthday.

"Jack Robinson? Here? I thought we'd left him at an airfield in Australia. Obnoxiously honest man," her husband had complained, but his heart didn't seem in it. "First time I've seen our daughter moved by romantic notions though."

Henry Fisher had clearly not been watching closely enough. Still, thought Margaret as she watched the couple descend the stairs that evening, he probably had a point.

It was the intimate gestures that gave it away. The ease in which they donned their outerwear- Jack helping her into her furs, then Phryne reaching up to adjust his hat- like a well choreographed scene. The way her daughter linked arms by pressing her whole body against his side, and the way he guided her with utmost care and no demands. But it was the way they bent their heads together to exchange soft words, laughter on their lips and love in their eyes, that allayed all doubts. Her daughter was truly in love with a man that loved her well.

Margaret could only hope he knew how to waltz. Phryne deserved that.


	3. Charlie Winston-Smythe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conversation between Jack and Charlie that causes Phryne to stage a rescue.

When Charlie Winston-Smythe heard that the Honourable Miss Fisher was back in London, he had been pleased. They had quite a bit of fun over the years, and he had accepted the dinner invitation with a renewal of their acquaintance in mind.

To absolutely nobody's surprise, she was completely unchanged- still stunningly beautiful, outrageously dressed, and flirtatious. She seemed immune to his charms, however, and the charms of every other man; _that_ was nigh on unprecedented, as far as he knew. Then there had been a commotion at the door; he had watched her slip away at the end of a song, only to return after a few minutes with a man in tow.

They had danced to several songs, then Phryne had dragged him halfway around the room to make introductions to most of the guests. A police officer from Australia, according to the gossip that followed in their wake. What the man was doing in London was less clear, though given the doe eyes Phryne kept flashing him Charlie could only assume it was in some kept man capacity. The woman was practically preening as she made the rounds. He couldn't see the appeal himself.

Eventually they separated, Phryne off to retrieve drinks and the man leaning against the wall. Charlie moved towards him, desperate to satisfy his own curiosity.

"So, you've tamed the kingfisher," he said after several minutes of silence the man had made no attempt to break.

The man looked unfazed, continuing to follow Phryne's movements.

"Are kingfishers notoriously difficult to domesticate? I'm not terribly interested in ornithology."

"Phryne, man! I can't recall the last time I saw her stick to a single dance partner."

"I have no influence over Miss Fisher's dance card."

The man appeared to be a complete dullard. What Phryne saw in him was a mystery. Charlie decided to try a different tactic.

"Most women, they want a new fur or bauble. Pryne's more inclined to demand you suck her toe. It's fun, but all those 'I wants' in the bedroom do wear thin after awhile."

The man continued to stare at him blankly.

"What are you going on about?"

"Don't tell me she's stringing you along!"

"I'm not sure it would be any of your business if she was," the man said curtly.

So it wasn't a sparkling sense of humour that attracted her then.

The woman in question made her way over, linking arms with the policeman and patting it possessively.

"Hello, Charlie. Enjoying yourself?" She barely paused for his nod before continuing. "You've met Jack, I see. He's a good friend of mine, visiting all the way from Melbourne. Now if you'll excuse us, he owes me another dance."

She was gone again, dragging her pet policeman behind. It really was the most utterly perplexing development of the evening. Oh well. Perhaps he'd ask Felicity to take a turn with him.


End file.
